


Just One Look (And I Can Hear a Bell Ring)

by picturecat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 'promised we'd marry each other if we were both still single at 35' AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - people can just hang out for lunch all the time, Engagement, Family Feels, Family Planning, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Not Kidfic, Wedding Planning, but features much discussion of having kids, is there a short cute term for:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturecat/pseuds/picturecat
Summary: There are worse reasons to get married than being 35, still single, ready to have kids, and secretly in love with your friend.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 37
Kudos: 115





	Just One Look (And I Can Hear a Bell Ring)

“Rhodey won't marry me,” Tony says. He is clinging to Steve’s doorframe, unsteady on his feet. 

Steve opens his door wider. “You are incredibly drunk,” he says in as neutral a tone as he can manage, but Tony still makes an exaggerated face at him. 

Steve helps him over to the couch. He tries to settle him gently, but Tony is really stupidly drunk and ends up flopping across the sofa. 

Steve gets a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, and hands it to Tony. 

“I already drank,” Tony snarks, but obeys. Steve refills the glass and comes back with aspirin. He sits next to Tony’s feet. 

For a moment everything is silent. Tony stares fuzzily at the aspirin Steve gave him, and his grip on the glass of water is so precariously tilted that Steve is tempted to take it back. He doesn't, though. He just watches Tony. 

He’s not actually upset, Steve thinks. His brows are a little furrowed, his mouth ever so slightly downturned in a way that seems more sulky than sad. But there are no dark circles under his eyes, and the ridiculous little goatee he’s been trying to grow is neatly kept. And his lips are smooth, unchapped. Tony has a habit of gnawing on the bottom lip when he’s upset, but there’s no sign of him having done that recently. The skin is smooth. Perfect. It looks really soft, actually.

Steve clears his throat. “How did you get here?” he asks, hurriedly. 

Tony pops back the aspirin. 

“Took a taxi, mother,” he drawls. He turns to look at Steve with the lazy heat of alcohol in his eyes, and Steve feels his skin go warm. 

Tony, fortunately, doesn't seem to notice. He looks away, eyes flicking lazily across Steve’s living room. “Had to ditch Rhodey,” he offers. “He was being a square.”

“So you came to visit me instead?” Steve asks dryly. “I thought I was Captain Square.”

“That was, like, six hours ago, Steve. Keep up.”

“Is Rhodey a square because he refuses to marry you?”

“I am a genius, you know.”

“I’ve heard, yes.”

“I'm just saying,” Tony scowls. “It’s a good idea. Romantic entanglements are unpredictable. Sticking with somebody that you like— like-like, I mean, but not like like-like like, you know,  _ like- _ like, like me and Rhodey like-like—”

“Dear god, stop before you hurt yourself,” Steve blurts, laughing. “Do you mean as a friend? You could have just said as a friend.”

“Yes! But you marry them. And then you're married and don't have to worry about it and you're married to one of your friends. It works. It’s foolproof!”

“Yuh-huh,” Steve shakes his head. “So why’d Rhodey say no?”

Tony goes silent. Steve looks at him and he’s in a full-fledged sulk, scowling at the ceiling like it had said something nasty about his mother. “He says he’s not bi,” Tony grumbles finally. “He wants to marry a  _ girl. _ Said I wasn't as pretty as a girl. You think I'm pretty, don't you?”

“Of course, Tony,” Steve assures him. “Everybody knows you're the prettiest.”

Tony settles back down, seemingly satisfied with that answer. 

Steve just wishes he’d only been humoring Tony. The truth, unfortunately, is that he’d been all too honest. 

“... _ You _ should marry me.”

Steve freezes. He looks back at Tony, too late. Tony is lit up with his idea, his clever eyes bright and his mouth smiling. 

_ Oh no, _ he thinks. 

“Yes!” Tony bolts upright, hands waving. “You would be  _ great _ to be married to, Rhodey, pshh, what was I even, no, it should be  _ you.” _

_ I'm about to be Captain Square again, _ Steve realizes. “Tony, I can't,” he says aloud. 

“Yes you can, it's all legal now, where’ve you been, let’s go  _ now—” _

“It's 3 AM,” Steve protests, but Tony just looks at him like he doesn't even understand why Steve brought it up. 

Steve changes tactics. “Tony, don't you think you should give real marriage a shot first?” he coaxes. If he can just get Tony to drop it for tonight, he’ll forget the whole thing by morning. 

Tony frowns. “ _ We _ can get real married. That’s the point.”

“No, I mean— to someone you love.”

Something flickers across Tony’s face, then, something almost sober. It's gone before Steve can track it, and Tony looks at Steve with drunken accusation. “You should marry me,” he says sternly. Steve stifles a laugh. “I'm very rich, you should marry me.”

Steve stops him. “Don't let someone marry you for your money, Tony,” he says. “I mean it. You deserve better.”

It seems like a ridiculous thing to worry about, objectively. But Tony has a propensity for dating exactly the kind of assholes who would do that to someone, and accepting negative attention in lieu of real affection. 

“You're better,” Tony says, meeting Steve’s eyes, and for all his drunkenness, in that moment Tony is all too honest. Steve’s throat closes up. 

“You wouldn't do that to me,” Tony murmurs into Steve’s shoulder, cuddling up to him. “You’re better. I'm not gonna find someone, I'm not. I'm too— I can't do it right. But you stay. And Rhodey stays. You stay anyway.”

Steve hugs him gently, pressing his cheek into Tony’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Tony,” Steve whispers. “You've had a few bad runs, but you're only 19.”

Tony leans back, looking dejected and teary-eyed, and Steve is going to  _ break into pieces _ , Jesus Christ. 

“You won't marry me?” he asks plaintively. 

“I—” Steve breaks off. Even knowing Tony doesn't mean it, it’s impossible to say no. “You shouldn't give up just yet, Tony,” he says instead. “Give it time.”

“Time,” Tony repeats thoughtfully. “Okay. Yeah. Alright, hey, what about when I'm 35?”

“What?” 

“We can get married when I'm 35. That's plenty of time.”

“That’s… not really what I meant, Tony.”

“It works, though, yeah? When I'm 35 and you're… 90 or whatever, I dunno—”

“You know I’m only two years older than you—”

“If I'm still single and you're still single then we should be single together and get married. And then we won't be single. We’ll be singular. A singular married couple.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says fondly.

Tony, of course, takes this as encouragement. “Please?” he wheedles, and buries his face in Steve’s chest.

“Sure, Tony,” Steve agrees.

Tony’s head pops up. “What, really?”

“Sure. If you can remember that I agreed to it by tomorrow morning, that is.”

“You underestimate my brain power,” Tony says, eyes narrowed. “Brain power, Steve. I am a genius.”

“A genius, huh?” Steve grins. “Golly gee.”

Tony puts his entire hand on Steve’s face, covering his mouth and chin. “Stop that,” he accuses, getting right up close. “It’s adorable when you’re a sarcastic shit, don’t do it.”

Steve tilts his head back so that Tony’s hand slips off his face. “Your breath smells like booze,” he says, instead of trying to respond to Tony calling him  _ adorable. _

“What are you, a breathalyzer?” Tony blows in Steve’s face, the smell of alcohol overwhelming. “What’s my BAC?”

Steve pushes his face away. “You’re disgusting,” he complains, and it is, it’s  _ true, _ and Steve must be far gone, because he still wants to kiss Tony senseless.

Tony grins at him, warm and unrepentant, and flops down on top of Steve again, pillowing his head on Steve’s stomach. Steve just pets his hair and lets him. He knows Tony is only being so sweet because he’s drunk out of his mind, but that doesn’t mean Steve can’t enjoy it while it lasts.

Within moments, Tony is passed out and probably drooling on Steve’s shirt. Steve just smiles. In a little while he’ll get up and find a blanket, pull Tony’s shoes off his feet, turn out the lights. He’ll go to his own bed.

For now, he stays.

* * *

Tony looks tired. 

The quiet around them is comfortable, unhurried. The noise and chatter of the diner fills in the silence. Tony just stares out the window, at the grayness of the skies and the rain on the sidewalks.

There aren’t any dark circles under his eyes. He has concealer that he wears, powder that he uses to set it. And his lips aren’t chapped, because he doesn’t bite them anymore. It was an obvious tell— too obvious, for one of the most successful businessmen in the world.

He’s not handling the break-up well.

Steve thought— he wants Tony to be happy, of course he does. He thought Tony could be, with Pepper. It seems clear that Tony thought that, too.

But.

Steve steals Tony’s coffee and takes a loud slurp from it, just to see Tony pin him with a mock-glare. He grins, teasing, and takes another long sip, and then offers it back to Tony. Tony rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even like coffee the way I take it,” Tony says. “I thought.”

“I’m trying something new,” Steve responds.

“Yuh-huh.” Tony is unimpressed, but his lips quirk fondly. Steve just grins.

“More water?” the waitress asks Steve, friendly.

“Yeah, please,” Steve replies, and leans out of her way as she refills his cup.

“Your plates are gonna be out in just a minute,” she assures them. “Do you need more coffee?” she asks Tony.

“That’d be great,” Tony says, and smiles charmingly. “ _ Some _ body keeps stealing mine, even though he could have ordered his own.”

“It tastes better when it’s stolen from you,” Steve retorts.

“What if I were a germaphobe, Steven?”

“If you’re going to develop germaphobia, then you’ll have to stop eating off my plate. And I know you’re never gonna do  _ that _ . So I’m not too worried.”

Their waitress laughs. “Seems like you guys know each other pretty well. How long, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Steve looks at Tony, his head quirked. “Seventeen years?” he asks. Tony shakes his head.

“Eighteen. January, remember? And I’m about to turn 35.”

“His birthday’s March 2nd,” Steve tells the waitress, giving Tony a fond glance. “I still don’t know what I’m going to get him. He’s impossible to shop for.”

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure,” Tony says, smiling. “You always do.”

“Well, hey, mazel tov, you guys,” the waitress grins. “I hope I get that lucky one day.”

She turns to tend to another customer, leaving Steve and Tony to stare at each other across the table.

The silence is less comfortable, now.

“I think she thought—” Tony starts, and stops, scratching the back of his neck.

“That we were together.” Steve ducks his head. And then smiles at Tony, weary. His heart feels tight. “Let’s not embarrass her by correcting her.”

“No,” Tony says, a little absently. “No, I suppose not.” He smiles at Steve, crooked. “Who’d be ashamed of a hunk like you, anyway?”

Steve huffs, hoping the small smile he offers doesn’t show how tired he suddenly is.

Steve still loves Tony. Of course he does. It’s not as if he’s been pining for nearly two decades, but— he’s carrying a torch, his mother would have said. Steve made peace with it years ago. It doesn't hurt, most times, feels good, even. He loves Tony Stark and nothing will ever come of it, but he still gets to be Tony’s friend. He still gets to be in his life, to share his time. Steve will never be so ungrateful as to consider that second-best. 

But it does sting when salt is rubbed in the wound. 

“Anyway, that does remind me,” Tony says suddenly. “You’ve got a promise to keep, mister.”

Steve stares blankly. “Sorry?”

Tony points. “You said you’d marry me.”

Steve’s blood runs cold.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, but I did.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, squeezing his eyes shut. He buries his face in his hands.

“I told you the power of my brain would prevail.”

“You were  _ so drunk,” _ Steve moans. “How?”

“Told you so,” Tony smiles, smug, into the rim of his coffee cup. 

Steve just shakes his head. “I don't understand,” he complains. “It's just not possible.”

“Steel trap,” Tony waggles his eyebrows. “Also I left myself a note on my phone.” 

“I should've known better,” Steve grumbles. “Jesus.”

Tony grins, teeth very white. “I was thinking an April wedding. Honey.”

Steve sighs, drumming his fingers on the laminated menu flat on the table. The plasticky tapping sounds are just audible over the distant pop music playing in the background. Steve tries not to frown. 

Tony places his hand over Steve’s tapping one. “Hear me out.”

Steve meets Tony’s gaze with his own, deadpan and a little rueful. 

Tony smiles, a bit weakly. “You’re not seeing anyone. I’m not seeing anyone. Clock’s ticking. I personally wanted to have started on the kids-and-a-house thing like ten years ago.”

“You have like three houses,” Steve says, unimpressed. He moves his glass of water slightly closer, and then soaks a frail little square napkin trying to mop up the condensation trail it left. 

“You know what I mean.”

“You could just adopt, Tony,” Steve points out. “You can actually afford it.”

“I intend to adopt. With you. A boy and a girl and the childhood pet of their choice.”

“Tony.”

“ _ Steve.  _ Come on. How much is your health insurance as a freelancer?”

“$340 a month,” Steve grumbles. 

“Does that cover dental, Steve?”

“You know it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I do. Marry me! Let’s have kids and I’m leaning toward a dog but it can be a cat, it doesn’t matter, my insurance will cover all of you.”

“Your insurance covers cats.” 

“My insurance covers whatever I tell it to cover. In that I have a Stark Industries plan, and I could direct the company to create a plan that includes pets. Cause I’m the boss.”

“I’m not marrying you because of your insurance.” Steve steals Tony’s coffee again, taking another sip. It tastes like caramel and salt, and Steve knows very well it's Tony’s go-to comfort drink. He’d bought Tony about a thousand of them back in college, in the months after Tony’s parents died.

Tony smiles ruefully, chin in one hand. His other hand taps against Steve’s, still covering it. “How about marrying me because we’re friends, and we love each other, and we both actually want kids. Which is a big step up from all our previous partners.”

That was certainly true, Steve thinks. He and Sharon had been on and off for seven years before they’d called it off for good. She’d been willing to consider marriage, but balked any time Steve brought up kids. They’d both finally had to admit that Sharon was always going to be more married to her job than she could be to him.

He doesn’t know the full story behind Tony and Pepper’s breakup, but he knows Pepper had never felt the timing was right. 

“Steve, come on.” Both of Tony’s hands clasp his, squeezing gently. “Tell me it’s completely boneheaded and I’ll shut up.”

Steve almost says it; opens his mouth to say just that. But Tony is looking at him with the same pleading earnestness that made it impossible to say ‘no’ all those years ago, the last time he heard this boneheaded proposal. 

He looks at his hand clasped in Tony’s. “No,” he said. “It’s not completely boneheaded.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if it's stuck in your head but the title worked okay  
> i'm marking this story incomplete because now i've remembered why i wanted to write this. let me know if you like what you read! i'm easily encouraged :)


End file.
